Born in Florida in 1957, David Williams has always been a practical man; intelligent, soft spoken, gentle in nature and ruled as he put it, "much more by my mind than by my heart." That keen mind propelled Williams through service both to his country as a judge advocate general in the Air Force and to American justice as an attorney specializing in healthcare.
Yet, after a chance meeting with National Security Administration ( NSA ) analyst Carl Allen in 1997, Williams' pragmatism slowly crumbled under love's intense and sovereign nature. For 12 years, they were as passionately devoted to each other as they were to the South.
So they bonded with each other first in Portsmouth, Virginia, and finally Rogers, Arkansas, wherein their home under the tranquil magnificence of the OzarksAllen proposed to Williams in 2008 and died in 2010 due to complications from HIV. A devastated Williams was picking up the pieces when he applied to the Social Security Administration ( SSA ), for a lump sum death benefit and outstanding disability payments owed to his husband. He wholeheartedly believed the government would respect their relationship much like their Arkansas neighbors. He was denied these benefits by the SSA both before and after the Supreme Court struck down the Defense of Marriage Act ( DOMA ) and Arizona Circuit Court judge Chris Piazza declared the state's ban unconstitutional.
Williamswho now resides in the Chicago neighborhood of Streeterville and works at the Art Institutecontacted Lambda Legal. On Nov. 6, the organization filed a federal lawsuit against the SSA declaring in a press release that "no one should have to fight to be treated with respect by their federal government while they grieve the passing of their spouse." Williams hopes the lawsuit will set a precedent that will ensure other widowers of same-sex spouses do not fall victim to the same sublime indifference to their bereavement and disdain both for the love they shared and the equal protections they deserve.
Windy City Times: You spent most of your early years in 1960s Mississippione of the most violent and turbulent times in the state's history. Did that affect you in any way?
Dave Williams: My father was an Air force officer and always requested base assignments in the Southeast to be close to family. In the fourth grade, desegregation was the rule rather than integration and so we had our first black children who wanted to be a part of my school. But my family did not have the prejudice that existed in so many others. In fact, I remember hearing very ugly things about myself because I could be friends with these kids. Looking back on it now and seeing news footage from that time, it just seems like a different life but I draw a lot of parallels. I was in the closet until my early thirties in order to avoid bigotry and ridicule and to do "the right thing." I just wanted to be accepted and being gay could not be a part of that [life].
WCT: What were those days like?
DW: I was living the life of a straight man at the time and I was not active at all in the gay community. I was married to a woman I met in law school and I fathered a child. I just accepted it as the way life is. If I had really been honest with myself about my sexuality, I would never have married [her] because I would never have wanted to bring pain to another person. I'm 57 now and I think a lot of [gay] men my age share the same story.
WCT: You were divorced and out as a gay man when you met Carl. What initially struck you about him, and how did your relationship together evolve?
DW: I was living in Baltimore [Maryland] working in risk management for a Roman Catholic health-care chain. He only lived a few blocks from me and it was one of those "purely by chance" meetings. He was a man of great intelligence and integrity. I had not personally been exposed to a lot of men in the gay community with whom I could describe in those terms and so I was very attracted to him. He told me right off the bat that he was HIV positive and, four years before meeting me, he had lost his male lover to AIDS. But, through the relationship and our marriage, we practiced safe-sex and I have remained HIV negative to this day.
After our second date, Carl told me that he loved me and that he wanted to be with me but I needed more time and I said "you need to back off because, if I feel pushed, it won't work." So he gave me some space and we continued on with our daily relationship for a couple of months. Then my company transferred me to Southern Virginia. He was still an active duty employee of the NSA at the time. I told Carl that I needed to follow my career and he said "If you're going to do that, I will retire from my job, sell my house, move with you and I will buy a house there for us to live together." Everything he said he was going to do, he did. I thought "OK, if this man was doing all of this, he really does love me, it's not a pipe dream." I was able to open up much more of my heart to him. I realized it was the real thing and I did love him. He told me, at the outset, that he thought we would have three years together because he anticipated his health to fail. But the three years became 12. Even now, I consider myself a very fortunate man. I know what it's like to truly love and be loved. It may not happen for me again, but I know what it's like.
WCT: What was that life like as a couple? What did those 12 years mean to both of you?
DW: We purchased an early colonial home in a Portsmouth, Virginia neighborhood called Olde Towne and it was in pretty bad condition. We took this structure and we restored it to a state where it was featured on the Historic Virginia Homes and Gardens tour and we were touted as the model gay couple in the area. Like all marriages, we would have our arguments, like about budgets and responsibilities for chores, but we loved our life together there. When I retired from legal practice, we thought about where we wanted to spend the rest of our lives. We had visited Carl's sister in this beautiful area of Arkansas in the foothills of the Ozarks. We knew it was a Conservative state going into it, but people looked at us and respected us regardless of how they felt about homosexuality. One evening, [in 2008] I had fixed him his favorite meal of a pot roast. We were finishing up and he knelt on one knee and said "I want to marry you. Will you marry me?" I was floored! Being the cynical person I am, I said "why?" The wedding in San Francisco was very intimate but it was lovely. We were both so proud to do it. We embraced and told each other how much we loved one another. I just had tears falling down my cheeks.
WCT: Tell me about your last years together.
DW: Carl was commuting back and forth to the NSA as contractor. In August of 2009, he had a seizure at our home in Arkansas and he had to leave his job. From that point, it was a slow progression downhill and each week it got a little worse. I devoted all my mind, spirit and body to his care and I gave everything I could give to him from the core of my existence. When he was bedridden, I learned how to give him a bath and wash his hair. I learned early on that I could go 24-48 hours without sleep. I mean I was doing things I never expected to be doing but the only way I can describe it is that, if you have a sick spouse, you take care of that spouse and so I didn't question it. We were holding hands and looking into each other's eyes when he died. ( In tears ) I told him that I would always be with him and he would always be with me and that I loved him and then I said "Carl, you can go now." And then he died. He had two services; one at the church we attended in Arkansas and then the remainder of his ashes I took back to Maryland. I read the Lord's Prayer and spread them on the gravesite beside his lover who had died of AIDS.
WCT: And how did the struggle with the SSA begin?
DW: Carl was approved for long-term disability posthumously. So there was an unpaid lump sum death benefit and those disability payments backdated from his seizure in 2009 until his death in April 2010. If this had been a heterosexual marriage, those benefits would have been paid directly to me. So I made the claim for the benefits as his surviving spouse. Social Security claimed DOMA and denied the benefits and then I went through the administrative rounds by myself. I got the final denial in September [2014]. I knew that going into federal district court would be beyond my expertise and so I contacted Lambda Legal. I am disappointed in my country but I also see Carl's spirit with me in this.
WCT: You had mentioned that Carl is with you in this fight. What do you feel from that presence?
DW: "Go for it." It's as simple as that. He would be so proud because he always stood for fairness. If we are successful in court, there are thousands of people who can be helped by this. That would be the silver lining in the cloud of Carl's death to me.